From varoneeka@aol.com Sat Aug 30 12:50:43 1997
Path: Supernews69!SupernewsFH!news.maxwell.syr.edu!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: Q-raker (TNG P/Q NC-17 no BDSM) 1/3
Date: 30 Aug 1997 19:50:43 GMT
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Can you believe I wrote another one? Is Varoneeka insane? Oui. Tant
pis. Anyway, this is an NC-17 P/Q story, fifth in a series: "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," all
of which are (or will soon be) archived at The Star Trek Slash Archive.
It's decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely stories, no
question). No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men (kinda) or
lots of love-talk should read any further.
Feedback is greatly appreciated at Varoneeka@aol.com
Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys. I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!
*Q-raker*
It was the Enterprise's greatest reception. The peace talks had
gone amazingly well, in great part due to Captain Picard, the mediator who
had managed to stay charming and optimistic and imperturbable even in the
face of the most dreadful Biegian insults and the direst Hapkadiim threats.
Over the course of weeks he had guided the parties towards reason and
compromise, thwarting a war that would have cost billions of lives and
cementing the Federation's place in the hearts of both peoples. Picard
himself, standing among the delegates and admirals who had wanted to be
there for the signing of the treaties, couldn't help feeling more than a
little pleased with himself, and fiercely proud of his crew, who had
handled a variety of confrontations and near show-downs with grace and
poise and honor.
The constant good will which had so greatly aided Picard's triumph
was due in very large part to the nearly omnipotent entity who stood near
the bar keeping an eye on his lover as he listened to the mortals chatter.
This was Q's first public appearance, and while only a few people
there knew he was the captain's lover, all the Starfleet personnel realized
there was some special reason for his being not only present but so
well-behaved. He didn't mingle, but he wasn't sneering, nor was he staring
overtly at Picard. In fact, he was currently amusing himself by timing his
glances at the beloved figure and face when no one was looking at him.
Since there were over a hundred pair of eyes in the room, this was
something of a challenge, even for him.
Every now and then he even managed to time these looks with those
moments when Picard was looking at him, and then he would send an image
across the room of what he planned to be doing a little later. Picard
would either archly ignore him, shift a bit on his feet, or -- Q's favorite
-- send back an image of his own.
A moment ago, Picard had sent back a particularly vivid image that
had made Q's breath catch more than slightly, and he had raised an eyebrow
in a question he knew the captain would be able to read: did he want Q to
stop time and make that image corporeal immediately? But Picard had shaken
his head just slightly and gotten back into conversation with the Biegian
delegates, leaving the entity with more than a little energy he wasn't sure
what to do with. He could explode the uninhabited Biegian moon into atoms,
but Picard probably wouldn't care for that too much.
"Are you enjoying the party, Q?" a calm voice asked from behind him.
Q turned with arch look. "Very much, my professor of the
humanities. A perfectly fascinating study in humanoid torture techniques."
Data nodded. He would have been surprised if Q had answered much
differently. And now that his emotion chip was working better, he was even
starting to develop an appreciation for the entity's sarcasm. He did not
find it to be a particularly logical or efficient method of communicating,
but it did seem to provide Q with what he wanted.
Data had also learned enough about Q not to launch into a treatise
on the different levels of communication humans practiced, or what they
expected from them, and instead stood there quietly, wondering if Q would
care for his attempt at silent companionship or simply use the opportunity
to mock him. Data found he did not care for being mocked now that his chip
worked so well, although from Q he had learned not to mind as much.
Actually, Data had thought several times that he was glad his
emotion chip hadn't been in place for the first thirty years of his life.
He knew that many of the awkward experiences of his development would have
been painful in the extreme if he had had emotional responses to them. In
fact, sometimes in simply remembering his life he felt strongly unpleasant
sensations which he did not always understand.
Using the present case as an example, in his younger days, Data
would have known no better than to ask Q questions about his relationship
with the captain. The android actually felt the urge to shudder -- and
delighted in such a strong reaction -- to think what Q would do to him
should he try such a thing. Looking at the entity now, he had to admit to
a certain curiosity, and to a certain degree of embarrassment at that
curiosity. He was now capable of feeling how much Picard meant to him, the
captain who had become the father his real father had never wanted to be.
As such, he found himself, to his surprise, frequently feeling protective
of Picard, not only of his safety, but of his happiness. And he knew that
Q was a potential source of danger. It was his concern over this that had
made him bring the affair to everyone's attention almost four months ago.
And while Data trusted Q not to hurt the captain or destroy the ship, that
trust was not unconditional. It would not be logical to ignore the
unpredictability of a lifeform like Q.
On the other hand, Captain Picard's increased happiness since his
involvement with Q was easy to observe. Data believed and had evidence to
support the belief that without Q in his life the captain would still have
been successful in his mediation of this peace conference. Picard's
excellence in such situations was a matter of record.
But Data also believed, and had a great deal evidence to support,
that Q had made things a great deal easier for Picard and for the entire
staff. What would have been an extremely trying, emotionally fraught and
frustrating series of weeks that would have affected not only the captain,
but also Counselor Troi and Commander Riker in their support of him, had
been merely a round of hard work. Except for a few days at the beginning
of the conference, the captain had retired each night exhausted and
appeared each morning refreshed and in good humor. And that mood had been
infectious, filling first the crew and then the delegates with first the
hope and then the certainty that everything could be peacefully and
satisfactorily resolved.
This, Data considered, was no small accomplishment on the
captain's part, nor on Q's, particularly considering the enforced celibacy.
"Are you enjoying the party, Data? Q?"
The two addressed turned to look at the counselor, herself
resplendent in a formal gown of Betazoid fashion, dark curly hair piled
high on her head.
"What is the mortal obsession with social pleasantries?" Q demanded.
"Don't the Q have ritual customs?" Troi asked back, feeling,
rather foolishly, that nothing Q could say would bother her. She knew even
better than Data how much easier her job had been because of Q's personal
assistance. Usually, at the end of something like this, she would be
emotionally and physically exhausted. Now, she was tired, and had the
satisfaction of knowing she had worked hard at her job, but that extra
level of difficulty, the one that made work a burden, had been kept from
her. In fact, she more than anyone had been in a position to benefit from
the captain's unfailingly good mood.
Q easily sensed the counselor's good will, and gave her up for a
lost cause. If there were anything worse than a Betazoid/Human woman to
begin with, it could only be a happy and contented Betazoid/Human woman.
Besides, a moment was coming up when he would meet Jean-Luc's eyes
again. There. Just a nano-second, but it was enough to send another image
of what he planned to be doing soon to that luscious body once he got it
naked and supine. The barest hint of a quiver ran through his beloved, and
Q suppressed a truly wicked grin.
Would this stupid party never be over? What was it with humans
and their need to be bored out of their minds everytime something nice
happened? It was not as though he and Jean-Luc hadn't had to wait long
enough already.
Q had sensed trouble the second the orders have come through.
Picard had been at his desk when they came in, and Q had been on
the sofa, trying to get Picard away from his desk. It had been one of
those rare times when Q's presence was a welcome distraction from a
frustrating day. Usually, Q stayed away when his lover was doing his job.
He could certainly find enough things in the universe to entertain himself
without getting too desperate with loneliness. When Q did arrive, Picard
made a conscious effort to put his work aside. And if an emergency arose
while they were...engaged, Q simply took them out of time until Picard was
ready to deal with it. That sort of temporal trickery was something the
Starfleet captain hadn't liked at first, but had made himself get used to
for Q's sake...and for his own, he eventually admitted. In turn, Q had
forced himself to get used to the idea that even when they were in the
middle of something important, some serious discussion or a discovery of
some new form of bringing each other pleasure, Picard would be distracted
even by an emergency held at temporal hold. Q was learning to accept that
Picard's job completed the man's identity, and couldn't be treated as
unimportant no matter how inconvenient it sometimes became.
But every now and then they allowed the line to blur slightly.
Picard had been looking over ship's business, but he hadn't really been on
duty. He needed to finish several reports, but not for a couple of days.
He had been at his desk, but he hadn't been wearing any clothes. He had
refused to come to the couch where an equally naked Q awaited him, but he
hadn't really done much ship's business either.
And then Starfleet's orders had come in. Picard had read them
over, and all the fun of the lazy afternoon drained from his face, replaced
by the Competent Captain.
But the peace conference itself hadn't been the bad news. In
fact, Q found he actually welcomed the opportunity to show Picard that he
could be a help during a trying professional experience.
It was the demands of the peace conference that threw the entity
for a loop. Both the Biegians and the Hapkadiims -- two races sharing a
solar system and evolved from the same root species -- claimed to believe
that spiritual peace was generated by physical discipline and denial. All
the delegates, including those from outside worlds, who wished to
participate in the conference were expected to maintain a strictly defined
level of celibacy. Anyone unable to control such a basic urge as the
sexual drive sufficiently during such a conference was believed to have no
place among the supposedly enlightened peacemakers.
The next day, when Picard had explained the situation in detail,
sitting in his uniform on his ready-room sofa, gripping a cup of tea from
which he had not yet drunk once, Q knew he was now expected to get angry,
or pout, or threaten to leave during the conference and return when it was
over. If it were not for all those years of teasing and annoying the
captain -- years Q looked back on with great fondness -- Q might have been
upset or insulted at the captain's apprehensions.
But instead he leaned back on the sofa with his arms folded and
said, "Well, weeks and weeks without me inside you. Think you'll make it,
Johnny?"
Picard snorted and sipped some tepid Earl Grey. "I'll manage."
"Hmmmm." Q held up his hand and a data padd from Picard's desk
flashed into his grip. "Your two little clubhouses share a great deal of
cultural flotsam, but I see on the issue of what exactly constitutes sex
and celibacy, they can't make up their minds. Let's see, for the Biegians,
sex involves direct physical contact in which both participants intend to
achieve climax. Ah, written so that a delegate couldn't be knocked out of
things by being raped or getting a friendly hug. The Hapkadiims define sex
as any action intended to aid procreation -- well, that lets us off the
hook -- or as any mutually consenting act of penetration or erotica. Well,
how do they define 'erotica?' Here it is. Hm. A list of specific body
parts that come into direct contact for purposes of sexual stimulation.
How very anal-retentive."
"I'm not sure this is helping, Q." He frowned as the entity
called up another display. "What is it?"
"Just looking up 'mutually consenting.' How interesting."
Picard wished he'd stop. "Q...love. I was thinking that it will
give us the opportunity to explore the more platonic side of our relationship."
"Are you saying we don't talk enough?" Q pouted a bit, enjoying
himself immensely. He had every intention of "exploring" their relationship.
"Of course not." In one of those gestures that Picard had spent a
great deal of time learning to do naturally, Jean-Luc reached out his hand
to take one of Q's. "I only meant that as long as the two of us are doing
something together, I don't much care what it is."
*Oh, you're good, Jean-Luc. You're very, very good.*
And they smiled at each other rather foolishly for a time.
"So when does this torture begin?" Q asked.
Picard shifted slightly, holding Q's hand a bit more firmly now.
"I'm afraid I officially entered the proceedings by accepting my orders."
"No last wild roll in the hay to tide us over?"
Picard brought Q's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it
tenderly. "I tried to put it off, just for a day, but the matter has
become an issue of some urgency."
Q was fully aware what it meant that Picard would attempt such a
delay, and opened up the hand his lover had kissed to smooth his palm and
fingers over the side of Jean-Luc's face and over his perfectly shaped
head. "Well, I think you should be given a little leeway. No one else at
the conference has to refuse to enjoy something as good as what we've got."
Privately, Picard agreed, but he said only, "My dedication to the
conference can never fall under suspicion if the mission is to be successful."
"I love it when you talk dirty." Fingertips lightly stroked
Picard's left ear.
"Q, would you stop that, please?"
"You know," Q said, not stopping, "the Hapkadiims don't include
ears in their careful list of erogenous zones. The Ferengi would be insulted."
Picard couldn't believe how disturbing Q's light touch was
becoming. He knew his lover wasn't using any of his powers, and yet the
sensation of that gentle fondling around the swirls of his ear was powerful
in the extreme. When one of Q's fingers actually went inside his ear, his
whole body reacted. Frowning at his own deep shudder, he grabbed Q's hand
and pushed it away before standing up from the couch.
"I thought you understood what I have to do during this conference."
And then suddenly Q was right behind him, his hands holding
Picard's shoulders as he whispered in that same ear, "We won't violate your
little friends' customs, my love, I promise you. But if you think we're
going to go all that time without touching each other, you'd better think
again."
And then his tongue was lightly tracing those same curves and
swirls his fingers had found a moment before, and Jean-Luc had to close his
eyes with the spreading arousal that touch created. The backs of his legs
were tingling, and he began to feel empty and needy and everything he tried
not to feel while on duty.
*Don't, oh God, don't do this to me now.*
*I think I might be able to wait until tonight.*
Picard tried to think more clearly through his warm haze of
sensation. *I meant to tell you, I have to go down to Biegia IV tonight.
The first round of talks will be held there, and both sides are insisting
that the participants remain on the planet.* He said it neither aloud nor
in his mind, but his request that Q stay away while he was planetside was clear.
"That settles it, then," Q groaned, turning Picard's body with his
hands while one leg swept the captain's feet out from under him. The
entity controlled the fall with his body and they landed with a gentle
rolling thud on the floor, Q's form completely covering Picard's.
*I can't kiss you, Jean-Luc. Even the Hapkadiims seem to know
what lips are for. Please, love, look at me.*
The man gazed up into the mesmerizing eyes of his lover and felt
the arousal in his body increase ten-fold. *Q, I'm not sure this is
something I can allow.*
*What difference does that make?*
Picard felt his deep shock weakly battle his body's other
sensations. "You don't mean you'd take me by force?"
"Well," Q panted as his body began to move slightly, pressing and
then caressing Picard's groin with his own and watching the dark clouds
gather in the man's hazel eyes. He went back to speaking with his mind.
*I might later, if you need it. It would get us happily around both
cultures' conditions for violating celibacy. But I don't think anything so
drastic is called for right now. After all, we're not touching each other.*
And Picard realized dimly that this was true. Q was only pressing
against him where the uniforms covered them both. But that didn't seem to
deter his body from acting as though they were sprawled naked in a brothel.
He knew he'd become fully erect, straining painfully against his clothing,
wanting so much more than this.
And then he saw the plea in Q's eyes and let go of his mental
barriers, groaning aloud as Q's consciousness spilled inside him, thrusting
back with his own feelings as they twined around each other in that soft
warmth of love and trust, made hotter with desire. And, exposed, Picard's
mind revealed that he really wasn't entirely comfortable with this game of
dodging the precise definitions of celibacy. However, he wasn't so
uncomfortable that he actually wanted Q to stop, and the delighted entity
pressed against his lover more insistently even as their mental link
deepened, buring even hotter with pure lust.
And then Picard felt something he'd never gotten from Q in all the
times they'd joined. Always before, he could tell the difference between
their mental connection and their physical. But this new sensation was a
blend of both, for though he was positive this stimulus came strictly from
Q's mind, it raced along his skin and danced along his nerves as though it
were some tangible manifestation of love and desire, as though the emotions
had become so dense they had taken solid form.
Q sensed his lover's confusion and laughed. *I'm touching you
with a part of myself the Hapkadiims completely forgot about: my mind.
Morons. That's *me* along your nerves. Me touching your skin. Can you
feel me there, on your left nipple?*
Picard's groan shook his whole frame. The sensation was exquisite.
*Don't stop, beloved.*
*I have no intention of stopping. Have I ever told you how much I
like your nipples? They're so pale and they respond to me so eagerly.
Everytime I see you now I want to leap on top of you and kiss them. I
never thought I would get as crazy about anything as I was about your
legs...* Picard groaned harder as the touch of Q's focused consciousness
rubbed tenderly along the inside of his right, and then his left thigh.
*...but now there simply isn't a part of your gorgeous shell I don't
completely adore. It's really quite amazing. Though, I must admit, I have
a special fondness for *this* part.*
Picard thought he would die, that his over-matched mechanical
heart would simply give out, when Q's mind smoothed its loving path to his
penis and began to stroke along his nerves. He felt also the pressure of
Q's own straining erection against him and involuntarily reached for his
lover to hold him close. Q's hands grabbed him just below the elbows,
touching only his uniform, holding him out of danger's way as every drop of
blood in Picard's body seemed to rush into that central spot.
He came, the relief and the joy of it washing through everything
he was, on and on, soaking his uniform in sweat and semen while Q locked
his arms to stay out of reach and released his own need into a spiraling
tempest of that special ecstasy he could never enjoy enough. It wasn't the
sort of mutual orgasm he and Jean-Luc had learned to share, but not even Q
could trust himself to stay in control if he let his partner that far into
himself. And it was still incredibly good and left them both gasping and
languid on the ready room floor, laying apart from each other but still
locked onto each other's eyes.
When their breaths were at least somewhat back to normal, Q
cleaned them both off and helped Jean-Luc to his feet.
"I love you," Picard said simply, enjoying the feel of the words
in his mouth and the instant effect they had in Q's eyes.
Q stepped back, blew him a kiss, and said simply, "See you later,"
before snapping out in his flash of light.
Not much later, Picard was beaming down with Troi and Riker and
Data, and the peace talks quickly degenerated into calmly moderated
screaming matches and mad scrambles to save face. After several days, even
Picard's manners were growing ragged, and he called a recess at midday
until the following morning.
He spent the afternoon with his staff, only then recognizing that
somehow the delegates had begun to inch towards progress, and then ordered
them all, including Data, to take some time to themselves.
Troi and Riker decided to get some dinner at a restaurant on the
other side of the world, Data opted for wandering around the capital city
to observe the Biegians in their element, and Picard walked the length of
the capital building to clear his head on the way to his designated rooms.
END OF PART ONE
From varoneeka@aol.com Sat Aug 30 12:52:30 1997
Path: Supernews69!SupernewsFH!news.maxwell.syr.edu!newsxfer3.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: Q-raker (TNG P/Q NC-17 no BDSM) 2/3
Date: 30 Aug 1997 19:52:30 GMT
Lines: 376
Message-ID: <19970830195200.PAA04099@ladder01.news.aol.com>
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X-Admin: news@aol.com
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Xref: Supernews69 alt.fan.q:6451
Can you believe I wrote another one? Is Varoneeka insane? Oui. Tant
pis. Anyway, this is an NC-17 P/Q story, fifth in a series: "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," all
of which are (or will soon be) archived at The Star Trek Slash Archive.
It's decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely stories, no
question). No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men (kinda) or
lots of love-talk should read any further.
Feedback is greatly appreciated at Varoneeka@aol.com
Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys. I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!
As his weary steps crossed rooms and marched down almost endless
corridors, he tried to figure out how he could ease the tension that both
sides seemed to feed off of with such determination. It were as if they
enjoyed stress and misery, or if their discomfort in general were some sort
of empty show of their devotion to duty. That celibacy thing really should
have been a warning. Unlike the people he saw on the streets of Biegia,
the delegates wore constrictive clothing of uncomfortable-looking
materials. Food and beverages were not allowed during the meetings, and
breaks for such things even as using the facilities were frowned upon. Any
attempts even at mild levity received nothing but stiff shoulders and
averted eyes, and even Troi's comforting presence and Data's invaluably
objective observation seemed to be resented.
He could accept this behavior if only the Biegian people
themselves reflected it as well. But Picard was beginning to suspect that
it was something the Biegians and Hapkadiims did only around each other,
like some sort of elaborate staring contest. If he could just get them to
understand that it wasn't necessary, or agree to dispose of such pointless
ceremony...
Finally, he reached the doors to his rooms and had his hand
scanned by the door lock. They were very nice rooms, tastefully decorated,
if a little too strenuously colorful for Picard's taste, and he had been
given a sitting room, dressing room, private bath, and bedroom, all checked
out thoroughly by security and close to the rooms of his officers. So far,
however, all he had used the rooms for was quick showers and too little
sleep. As he walked inside, he wondered how he could get some dinner with
the least amount of fuss.
"You look tired," a warm voice drawled from one of the room's soft
blue couches.
Half-closing his eyes just at the pleasure of that sound, Picard
turned to see a long body in a Starfleet captain's uniform sprawled out
over the cushions. Dark brown eyes smiled, matching the slow curve of
sensual lips and, as he watched, a slight sinking of the whole body deeper
into the cushions.
"You really are extraordinary, Q," Picard growled, striding across
the room with a body that suddenly wasn't so tired any more.
"Hardly an appropriate comment for one sworn to celibacy." The
dry remark was clipped off as Picard all but threw himself on top of Q and
wrapped his arms around his lover before tucking his face into Q's neck and
slowly letting his body relax. Q shifted a bit to get them more
comfortable, then held Jean-Luc a long, long time.
"I shouldn't have asked you to stay away," the captain confessed
finally. "It was foolish."
"No more foolish than a lot of the things you do," Q murmured,
stroking his back lightly and without targeting anything sensitive.
"Considering that I can't keep my hands off you, it's hardly your fault
that you think of me primarily as a sexual partner."
"Not true," Picard objected, still talking into the juncture of
warm neck and shoulder as his whole body quietly sang. "You're my partner
in every sense of the word, and I wanted you here from the beginning. I
just didn't know how you would feel about..."
"About what?" Q was frowning fiercely now, but made his hand
continue its comforting caress.
"...about being here, with me, when I can't be with...can't make
love with you."
The frown wrestled with a tender smile a moment, then surrendered
even as Q felt his emotions melt. Had he no defenses at all against this
man? Still, for Picard to think that he wouldn't want to be here
anyway...He really wanted to be angry about that.
"I'd say you underestimated me more than a bit, Jean-Luc. Now you
owe me a forfeit."
Picard caught himself just before saying "anything," and smiled
against Q's neck, well aware that he was only a half-inch away from a
particularly sensitive spot.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked instead, as suspiciously as
he could manage.
"All in good time. I know you haven't eaten since this morning,
and you little humans do get so grouchy when your stomachs are empty. What
would you like?"
"Something that doesn't take too much chewing." His jaw fiercely
arched both from talking and from forcing himself not to talk.
Q smiled and the low table to the side of the couch moved to the
front. A plate of salmon, spinach and peach soufflés sat on it next to a
glass of white wine. Picard smiled back and reached for the plate, but Q
firmly blocked the move and took the plate in one hand and the fork in the
other.
"Or would you prefer grilled fish?"
The shared memory filled their gaze.
"I'd prefer a lot of things," Picard murmured.
"Have you forgotten that you're paying a forfeit?" Q put some of
the salmon soufflé on the fork and lowered his voice. "Open up."
Slowly, fearing this was only going to end in frustration, Picard
opened his mouth and watched Q carefully feed him a bite of food. It was,
of course, delicious, but the captain barely tasted it. The enthusiastic
twistings of his stomach weren't helping his appetite.
Q persisted, however, not satisfied until the plate was cleared,
though he did help out with a few bites himself, the shared fork a poor
substitute for kisses, but a substitute nevertheless.
"Ready for your bath?" Q asked as the plate and empty wine glass
disappeared.
"Q..." Picard's warning was serious, but Q looked back at him
with a solemnity to match.
"You're making up to me, remember? I don't care at all for the
idea that you think I'm only interested in kissing you all over and making
you come."
Picard shuddered unpleasantly. This was getting to be too much.
"I don't think that. I just didn't want to make you feel that you had
to..." He gestured helplessly.
"Had to what?"
Picard sighed. "I hate the idea of not being able to give you
what you want."
Q's eyes closed a moment as he drew a breath that wasn't nearly as
steady as he'd intended. When he opened his eyes again, their expression
seemed to burn what they looked upon.
"Do I have to say it, Jean-Luc? Being with you is what I want."
Denied the right to kiss Q then, the right to take this adopted
human body in his arms and make the entity he adored feel as good as he was
able, Picard simply leaned forward, resting his forehead on Q's shoulder.
"I love you, Q. I don't know anything anymore but loving you."
Q's arms came around him, holding him close many long minutes,
then he spoke almost gruffly, "Time for that bath."
Picard chuckled. Q seemed to have a very specific agenda in mind
for the evening. "Do you really think that's wise?"
"Don't you trust me?"
Picard sensed the seriousness under the light tone and pulled back
to meet Q's eyes. "With my soul."
Smiling with abandon, Q took his hands and led him into the
bathroom, where a tub -- rather larger than the one Picard remembered being
there -- was already full of steaming water. Deftly, Q took off his
partner's uniform, carefully folding it and placing it on a shelf, then
removed the rest of his clothes and helped him into the water, helped him
scrub his back -- to Picard's great amusement -- then handed him a towel
and watched him dry off. Taking his hands once again, he led Picard into
the bedroom and shook his head when the man looked around for his pajamas.
"Lay down on the bed, Jean-Luc."
"I really don't think..."
"Don't tell me you haven't realized that this ridiculous posture
of self-denial is only making their situation worse."
"I still promised --"
"And you won't be breaking any promises, Jean-Luc, I promise you.
Now, do you trust me or not?"
Picard swallowed, then lay down on the bed, feeling unpleasantly
on display. When he looked at Q, his eyes went wide. While Q occasionally
wore other costumes for amusement, he was almost always either in his
Starfleet captain's uniform or naked with Jean-Luc. For the first time, he
was wearing pajamas: black silk shorts and crew-necked, short-sleeve shirt.
"You like?" Q struck a pose.
"You look gorgeous."
"Hmmm." Moving quickly into the bed, Q settled at his feet and
took one in a familiar grip before starting an even more familiar pattern
of massage.
"This brings back memories," Picard remarked with quiet enjoyment.
"Doesn't it? I'd been trying for so long to get my hands on you,
and what part did I finally end up with? Your feet!"
"I seem to recall your enjoying it well enough."
Q pinched a toe rather firmly. "Just for that, we're going to
have a quiz."
"Oh, are we?"
"Question one: what parts of the male anatomy do the Hapkadiims
include in their definition of 'erotica?'"
You're going through all this just the get me to say dirty words?"
"Really, Picard! Such a juvenile attitude about humanoid physiology!"
Picard wanted to think of something clever to say, but Q's hands
were magic, releasing the tension all through his body with precise
application of pressure along the soles and sides and tops of his feet.
"All the usual places," he murmured.
"Those being...?"
"Mouth, chest, everything between the hips."
"Oh! Euphemisms! How disappointing!" Q continued the massage a
moment. "Nothing in there about calves and shins?"
"Hmmm, nothing I remember."
Q's hands moved up, smoothing out tension there for a time.
Picard felt more stress drain out, surprised at how much there was of it,
surprised at how wonderful this felt.
"How about thighs?"
Picard felt the words contract something throughout his body, and
a delicious tension of another sort was filling him. Laying here naked,
there was no denying the physical effect of Q's words and touches, and
despite his trust in Q, he had to worry.
"I think you may have forgotten we have two definitions to contend
with."
"Oh, the first one is no trouble. I'm just not going to come."
Picard opened eyes he didn't remember closing, his surprise and
displeasure more than a little amorphous under Q's skilled touch. It had
been so many days with nothing but the bitterness of the conference and his
own empty body. "What? Q, what's the point...I can't just...not like
this. Not without you."
"I assure you you can."
"But --"
"Hush, Jean-Luc. Is it really so hard to understand why I want to
do this? Now, are thighs forbidden or not?"
Picard forced himself to relax again, and shook his head. It
really wasn't so hard to understand. If somehow the tables were turned, he
would want to do this for Q.
Which gave him an idea, and he smiled, eyes closing at the bliss
Q's hands were bringing his body.
Picard had expected Q to move to his back or arms, but instead the
massage began to change slightly, the rubbing growing lighter and yet more
focused, more tantalizing.
He began to moan, softly, at first.
Q had focused his entire mind on what he was doing. It was really
something he'd meant to do for some time now, taking the time to enjoy each
curve and line and dip of Picard's legs. He almost regretted his earlier
words about loving all of Jean-Luc's body equally. As the strong muscles
gave slightly under his hands, as the warm skin and light coating of hair
caressed his palms and fingers, as the sculpted shape seemed to guide his
movements, each stroke up and down, above the knees, over, below, then back
up again, Q felt more and more that he was touching some sort of
extraordinary work of art. The Q hadn't much use for art in the way that
mortals would describe it: statues and paintings and such. There really
wasn't much point in getting excited about something so simple, even if it
were sometimes quite pretty.
Q art was held to a different standard: a truly twisted anomaly,
like the type he had once been ordered to make for his lover, or a fantasy
creation with a life and logic of its own, or an influence on a species
which continued through the millennia.
Any Q who had managed to come up with even a fantasy Jean-Luc
Picard would have been heralded as a genius in the Continuum, no question.
And by some incredible workings of the cosmos even a Q could only be amazed
at, this work of perfection had wound up as Q's lover, in his life, moaning
now constantly under his hands, gasping out, now, his name.
"Q..Q, don't stop..."
Never before had Picard felt so worshipped, not even when he'd
been mistaken for God. Q's hands seemed votive offerings to his flesh,
each caress an act of devotion. It was true that the rest of his body
ached for that touch, but that ache was itself arousing, and he couldn't
help clenching and releasing his muscles in a reciprocating rhythm that was
working him very close to the edge.
"Q, love...I don't...think..."
At just the right moment, Q bent down and lightly bit into the
high inside of Picard's left thigh even as his fingers found that tiny spot
right behind his right knee and another spot exactly in the center of his
left arch, and the body under him jerked and arched and came.
Only while Picard lay there gasping in the aftermath did Q
acknowledge to himself that he had grown more than comfortably aroused.
Bringing all of his will to bear, he relaxed his human body and felt his
erection slowly subside. Then he cleaned Jean-Luc up and then took him
into his arms, well aware the his lover was trying hard but without much
success to stay awake.
"Thank you," the man mumbled.
"No trouble for you, Mon Capitaine."
Q awoke with empty arms and the knowledge that he was being
watched. Smiling a little, he rolled onto his back and drowsily looked up
to see Picard sitting cross-legged on the bed, dressed in his pajamas and
wearing an almost detached expression.
"For someone who doesn't need to sleep you've really become a
slug-a-bed."
"For someone denied getting royally fucked you're really asking
for it."
"Hmmm." In one quick motion, Picard whipped the sheet off the
bed. "Weeks of being denied are a small price to pay for seeing you in
those pajamas."
Q allowed himself to stretch out, drawing up his arms and arching
his back as his long legs pulled themselves straight, then he relaxed with
a sigh and smiled a contented smile. He didn't know what Jean-Luc was
planning, but he thought it would probably be pretty good.
"You're quite lovely," the captain said. "But, come to think of
it, I think you'd look even better with your shirt off."
Getting the idea now, Q reached his arms around and slowly,
smoothly, pulled off his black top and let it fall by the side of the bed.
At the same time, Q separated himself from his powers. This was his
lover's show.
"Yes," the rich baritone murmured, soothing Q's eyes closed, "much
better. There's all that skin I love to touch, that presses against me and
makes me feel wrapped in silk and velvet, that responds to my touch so
delightfully I think I'll come just from your shivers alone. I think I'd
almost let the Biegians and Hapkadiims go to war just so I can touch it
now, but somehow I can't convince myself."
Q was shivering now. This really was pretty good.
"So, please, love, you do it for me," Picard said, voice husky now
as well as low and caressing and almost tangible. "Bring your hands to
your chest and just lay them there."
Slowly, his thwarted erection from the night before already
starting to return, Q brought his hands to his chest and couldn't help
starting a bit in surprise. This felt really good, and with that voice and
his closed eyes, it was easy to pretend these were Jean-Luc's hands on him.
"That's right. Now, why don't you move your hands down just a
bit? There's a place I love to touch, right next to your ribs on your
right side. Could you caress that just with the tips of your fingers?
Good. Very good." Picard smiled as the outline of his lover's erection
showed plainly through his shorts, then schooled himself to patience. "You
know, I'm glad you say you like my chest so much, and I certainly love
yours, but did you know that your stomach is even more fun?" Q frowned
slightly. "It's true. So sensitive. As you'll see if you trace a small
circle around your navel with the fingernails of your left hand."
Q shuddered and complied, murmuring back, "It's about now I
usually ask you to touch me more."
"Do you know your nipples are already hard? Why don't you kiss
the fingertips of your right hand and then roll your left nipple the way I
love to...that's it. That's it. Your right one now, perhaps a bit harder."
Q complied each time, adding in some things on his own,
concentrating on the knowledge that Picard was watching him, that it was
really Picard touching him through his own hands. Soon, Q was breathing
heavily, painfully erect.
"Now it's time to get rid of the rest of your clothes, don't you
think? I want to see you."
Q smiled in satisfaction at the wavering strength in that voice
and stripped his bottoms off with relief, keeping his eyes closed. If he
looked at Jean-Luc now, he would come.
"God, that's beautiful. You're beautiful. Touch what I cannot
right now, please."
"This is you," Q said roughly as his hands went to that aching
part of his body and began to stroke. "I am you and you're touching me and
it feels so good."
"Then I'd like to touch you a little faster, Q."
Q groaned at the dry humor of the shaking words and concentrated
on his movements, wishing he could involve his lover more completely, but
not wanting to take the lead away from Jean-Luc.
And then he heard it: *What are you seeing behind your closed
eyes, my heart?*
And Q let his mind open in a jumble of treasured memories: Picard
insisting that Q acknowledge that Picard loved him before fucking him
senseless, the first time Q had returned from the Continuum to find his
lover waiting and sleeping naked, the first time Picard had taken him in
his mouth and proven he really wanted Q back.
And Picard matched each memory with one of his own: the time he'd
awoken to find Q masturbating in an attempt not to disturb his sleep before
he splashed him with his hot cum, the time Q had dared angering the
Continuum by leaving them to appear in Picard's ready room for a few stolen
moments of love, the first time Q had told him what he wanted to do his body.
And then together they thought of the first time they'd been in
each other's minds, and Q came with a howl while Picard committed every
detail of the sight to memory: the flush of Q's skin, the pitch of that
scream, the arch of his back, the strain of his muscles under his soft,
sweaty skin, the sated look in his eyes when he finally opened them with
words of love.
"I love you too, Q."
Q looked Picard over and smirked a bit. "Your turn."
Though he hadn't intended on this, Picard did not hesitate,
stripping off the damp silk and then leaning back on one hand, staring into
those dark eyes as his other hand quickly took care of the urgent need that
had been caused by watching Q. With a groan, he came, then fell back on
the bed beside his lover, not touching, until it was time to get dressed
for the conference, and the captain stood up to look down on the beloved
naked form on his bed.
"Next time," Q said before he disappeared, "let's do it together
and say sexy things."
And so the weeks passed. The two lovers used all their
imagination to invent new ways of pleasing each other, and though it wasn't
as intense as what they usually had it was more than enough to keep
Picard's mood unfailingly good as the delegates threatened to descend into
near-madness of hostility and discomfort. Picard and Q discovered quite a
few things that shouldn't have been arousing, but were, and some things
that should have been, but weren't.
Perhaps most disappointing was the discovery that simply coming
together mentally without touching at all didn't work well. Once their
thoughts were wrapped around each other, the absence of physical contact
became painful, an aching need so intense they almost threw themselves
across the bed at each other. Quickly, arousal frightened out of them
both, they disengaged and spent the night in each other's arms, clinging
almost desperately.
But the closest call came the night Q decided he would get Picard
to come without a single erotic touch.
It had been three nights in a row that the captain had been so
tired that he hadn't stayed awake for much longer than dinner and a little
cuddling. Q had held him close all night and seen to it that he slept as
long as possible in the morning.
But then the talks had gone well for a change, and though it was
late Picard came into his rooms with more decidedly more energy. Q had
been tempted to ask him to dance, but instead had whipped up a truly
sumptuous dinner, coaxing Jean-Luc into trying a few new dishes as they
talked about the conference. Then he hustled him into the bath and bed
with an overt gleam in his eye that left his lover chuckling and more than
a little keyed up.
Drawing Picard's compact and beloved body into his embrace as they
lay together on the bed, Q put his lips right next to his right ear and
gave in to a temptation he'd had for years.
END OF PART TWO
"Let us pray for understanding and compassion." -- Q
"Let us do no such damn thing." -- Picard
From varoneeka@aol.com Sat Aug 30 12:53:39 1997
Path: Supernews69!SupernewsFH!news.maxwell.syr.edu!news2.chicago.cic.net!iagnet.net!152.163.199.35!portc01.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: varoneeka@aol.com (Varoneeka)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: Q-raker (TNG P/Q NC-17 no BDSM) 3/3
Date: 30 Aug 1997 19:53:39 GMT
Lines: 354
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Xref: Supernews69 alt.fan.q:6452
Can you believe I wrote another one? Is Varoneeka insane? Oui. Tant
pis. Anyway, this is an NC-17 P/Q story, fifth in a series: "From Q, With
Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever," and "You Only Live Q," all
of which are (or will soon be) archived at The Star Trek Slash Archive.
It's decidedly lacking in BDSM (though those are lovely stories, no
question). No one under 18 or who dislikes sex between two men (kinda) or
lots of love-talk should read any further.
Feedback is greatly appreciated at Varoneeka@aol.com
Paramount owns everything, and so shouldn't be mad at me for playing
around with such irresistible toys. I'm not doing this to make money --
though I sure wish I could!
"I wanted you the first time I saw you."
Picard shivered and smiled into the darkness.
"I was wearing that delightful ship's captain's uniform, doublet
and hose, remember?" In case he didn't, Q was sending him a clear image of
the scene. "And I told you that humans were an uppity little race, and you
stared at me like I had escaped from a mental institute, and I thought you
were just the most desirable-looking thing I had ever seen. Of course, I
had no idea I was actually going to fall in love with you, but even while I
was doing all the things the Continuum had told me to, and enjoying myself
immensely, I admit, I knew things weren't going right. And then we had
those little talks, and you were so angry with me, and I was starting to
think more and more about how you would feel against me, about how you
would look doing that odd thing humans seem to like most, how your thoughts
would feel around mine, about what it would be like to see you look at me
with trust and desire."
Picard was becoming aware of several things all together. Q's
voice was stroking him with a rough, tangible caress, the images which
continued to fill his mind were becoming more and more personal in their
feel, he was growing seriously aroused, and Q had positioned them so that
quite a bit of "safe" skin was in contact. Once again he was shaking at
the idea that his lover wanted him to come without worrying about his own
pleasure, except the pleasure he got from making Picard feel good, and he
thought he was in serious danger of weeping at the tenderness of it.
"And there was this moment, when I was tempting Riker and he was
too stupid to realize what was happening to him, you and I were arguing
about *Hamlet,* do you remember?" More images flowed over him. "And I
thought, 'I'll just jump on him right now and we'll see what a piece of
work man is.'"
Picard laughed, and then gasped at another quite graphic image
buoyed up with hot need.
"Of course, it made me furious, and I threw your book at you and
tried to concentrate on what you were saying about humanity, and then you
made me look very bad to my fellow Q, and I tried to hate you for that."
The man's breathing was growing a little more than uneven as Q's
voice became the only thing of consequence in the world. He felt almost as
if he were floating, kept aloft himself by the desire and love rumbling
through those flowing words.
"And then I got you into Shuttlecraft Six, and you were so angry,
and I had no idea what to do to get you to see what I really wanted. In
fact, I have to admit I didn't quite know what I wanted either, except to
be with you. I meant every word about wanting to join your crew, you know."
"I'm s--"
"Shhh. It wouldn't have worked then anyway. Don't worry. Do you
have any idea how good you feel in my arms? You're so perfect. Your
warmth against me is delicious, and every nerve in my human body is
stimulated by knowing you're mine. And you are, aren't you, Jean-Luc?"
The man shuddered. "Of course. Yours. And you're mine."
"Naturally. Tell the Biegians and Hapkadiims to take a hike and
you can use me however you please." He paused to savor Jean-Luc's deeper
shudder, then resumed speaking and allowing his memories to trail through
his lover's mind. "Anyway, there we were in the shuttlecraft, and you sat
there for six hours and I couldn't believe you were just going to pretend
you weren't at my mercy, and more than anything I just wanted to throw you
on the floor and take you over and over. And then," Q's voice dropped to a
whisper than scraped along every human nerve ending, "I leaned over you,
and I felt, deep inside you, a response, and I knew, I actually knew, that
you felt something for me your didn't expect. And then I knew I would keep
coming after you until you recognized that you felt it too.
"And then it draged its way into the center of my life. When they
made me mortal, when I tried to enjoy having my powers back, when I took
Vash out of your life because she was driving me insane, when we had to
deal with Amanda, when you died and I had a chance to show you at least
little of what I felt, and when the damn Continuum decided it was time to
make you jump through hoops...through all of it, all I had to keep going on
was that one little glimpse into you I got on the shuttlecraft, and a few
other slight suggestions that you just might want me back, and they became
enough for me. They were too little, but they were more than I had ever
had before.
"And then you agreed to go for our walk in the garden." The
images of those lush flowers and the bright sun and the long, winding path
passed between them now. "And it was such a small thing, but it crossed
that barrier, it started to open you up, and I had reason to hope, and it
was all right that you meant everything to me, and it was all right that my
brothers and sisters were all laughing at me. I didn't care. I knew now I
had a chance, and I knew that you might actually love me the way that *I
love you.*"
Q said these final words with great emphasis, putting all that he
felt into them as he poured a hundred images of loving into Picard's mind,
trying to urge him into release.
But the release he got wasn't the one he intended.
"Q," Picard groaned, turning in his embrace. "I do love you."
And it was only Q's last-second avoidance which kept Picard's kiss
from falling on Q's lips, only Q's horror that he would hurt Picard's sense
of himself that let the entity catch hold of the hands which sought him,
only Q's love which turned the frantic desire they shared into a simple
embrace that lasted for the long, long time the captain needed to remember
why he wasn't supposed to be thrown on the floor and be taken over and over.
"I love you," Picard had to settle for saying, in the end. And he
said it over and over, Q drinking in the simple words as he made a note to
repeat his little speech sometime when Picard's ardor would be more...available.
And though the captain didn't get the sleep he needed that night,
his eyes were full of love and tenderness in the morning, and Q felt
certainly energetic enough to stay with him through a hundred peace conferences.
And in the end the triumphs far outweighed the defeats. There
were times Q returned to his adoration of Picard's legs, or other parts of
his body, and Picard made Q come more than once merely by lying on top of
him with the sheet in-between and sucking the sensitive places on his neck.
Surprising them both, the entity had actually taken a liking to having
"hickeys" he could see the next morning.
But it was more than simple sexual inventiveness. Picard
discovered (as did Q) that his lover could listen for hours to the
difficulties of the conference, offering suggestions based on keen (rather
than omniscient) insight, providing humorous observations which helped
dispel Jean-Luc's temper, and simply offering understanding for how
impossible it was not to feel rage at two races so determined to despise
each other.
Moreover, Q talked as well, of small things, funny things, private
things that helped ease the tension from Picard's mind and help him regain
his hope and equilibrium after even the most wretched round of talks.
And most of all Q simply reminded Picard through every action and
word and specifically targeted caress that he was loved by someone whose
love would always be more than enough for him, who would never tired of
him, or turn from him, or want to be with anyone else but him. The
perfection and devotion of Q's love wrapped around him like a soft, glowing
cocoon that not all the sniping ugliness of a hundred conferences could unravel.
And, finally, Picard's cheerfully splendid and magnanimous
civility won the day while Q's words and careful touches brought him to a
different flavor of pleasure each night.
And now it was over, Q thought petulantly, and he still hadn't
been inside Picard. The damn treaty had been signed, everyone had been
bored for hours. It was time to get Picard alone and balanced on a knife's
edge of ecstasy. He was tempted to give everyone else a raging headache or
fill them with the fear that their homes were on fire. Troi and Data were
blathering about something now and even though he wasn't listening to the
words the simple noise was driving him insane. Picard was making a point
of not looking at him in order to keep from embarrassing himself, and the
assassin in the corner was staring Q unrelentingly.
Well, the assassin was kind of interesting, he admitted to
himself. The man evidently had been more than a little horrified when his
bomb hadn't gone off a minute ago. Q knew the Biegian man, Artoch, had
already sworn his oath to destroy the conference and had cut out a patch of
skin over his heart to make himself dead in the eyes of his people.
Mortals bent on suicide greatly amused Q, who saw no need to rush something
that would happen soon enough on its own.
Artoch had evidently heard enough about Q to suspect him for his
bomb's malfunction, though he had not understood what he'd heard well
enough to give up his plan in the first place. Well, Q was actually
grateful for the distraction, and was more than willing to repay Artoch
fully for attempting to kill Jean-Luc.
Waiting until no one would notice, Q phased Artoch slightly, so
that he could not be seen by or make contact with the others, then changed
his appearance to the assassin so that Q looked like Baarlam, the Biegian
demon of fire. Artoch fell to his knees as his bladder released in fear.
In keeping with his new look, Q set each of Artoch's nerves aflame as he
called up images of the children Artoch had killed, the women he had raped,
and the tearing face of his mother, while the assassin pleaded for mercy.
Q kept this up for some time, watching Artoch's throat grow raw from
screaming, until he overheard Picard beginning to wrap up his discussion
with the delegates, and flung the pathetic wretch to the middle of a
Hapkadiim village, where he was immediately arrested, quickly tried (he not
only confessed, but surrendered the names of his entire terrorist group),
and summarily executed for his crimes. That the incident helped squash
terrorist activities on both Biegia and Hapkadii and greatly sped the
coming of peaceful coexistence concerned Q not a bit.
Since almost everyone there had been uncomfortable and celibate
for several weeks, once one delegate left, the rest quickly followed.
"Well," Picard said to his gathered and weary command crew while Q
watched them all with glittering eyes, "an extremely satisfactory ending to
what have been a very difficult series of weeks for us all. I want you all
to know that I've entered appropriate commendations for all of you and that
we'll be putting in to Starbase 117 next week for some extended shore leave."
The officers smiled back. Picard clapped his hands together,
nodded, and left with Q at his side to head for his quarters with
disciplined steps.
The Enterprise command staff tried and failed miserably not to
meet each other's eyes, then tried and failed even more completely to keep
smiles from their faces. Finally, Riker ordered up a round of drinks and
they all toasted a generally mutual feeling of success and joy in each
other's company. Even Data felt a little drunk.
Once they had reached Picard's quarters, anticipation was
difficult to release into action, and they simply stood there staring at
each other a long, long minute.
"What have you missed most?" Q asked finally with a grin.
"Everything."
Q's grin softened, and he moved to step forward when Picard put up
his hand.
"What is it now?"
"You've been so good to me. I can't image a more selfless and
giving lover." The hazel eyes softened and filled with love so deeply Q
felt his chest ache. "I want nothing more now than to do whatever you
want, to do *anything* you want. Please, let me for once encourage you to
be selfish. What have you missed most? What can I do for you?"
Q had thought they would kiss first, and come, and then touch each
other's skin, and come, and then, only after that...
But if Jean-Luc *really* wanted to do what would give him the most
pleasure...
"Take off your clothes and get on your hands and knees."
Picard smiled and began to peel off his dress uniform tunic. "I
rather thought it might be something like that."
In record time he was naked, Q's eyes raking over him and making
him shudder, and then he settled into position, and when he felt those
long-missed hands on his back and rear and thighs, he shuddered and grew
hard and arched his back and spread his knees.
*Hurry, please, love.*
*Don't worry.*
It had been awhile, however, and Q spent a long minute loosening
the muscle with a lubricated finger, watching Picard jerk and moan, and
then, only barely able to withstand the urgent screaming throughout his
whole physical and conscious self, he put the wet tip of his throbbingly
hard cock at the pink opening of his lover's body and pushed, as gently as
he could, inside, then rocked deeper and deeper as Jean-Luc moaned,
unconsciously clawing at the carpet as his hands clenched into fists.
*Couldn't stand not having this. Couldn't stand being so empty.
Fill me completely, dear beloved. Hurry.*
Q barely heard him, completely lost in the sensation of being
inside that tight warmth. Not since their first time together had Q been
so worried that he would hurt his mortal (well, semi-mortal now) lover.
Completely buried at last, he rested against that arched back and wrapped
his arms around the slim, strong frame and simply held him close.
Picard shuddered and fought the urge to push back. This felt so
good, but his body was greedy and wanted more, fiercely.
Q didn't move inside him, but his hands trailed over his chest,
teased his nipples to draw out a deep groan, and then found his erection as
the first thick drop of precum escaped the tip and dripped onto the floor.
When Q's hands began to move over him, Picard lost the ability to
control his motions, and pushed himself into their warmth. Q rode with
him, gently, and soon, very soon, the man was coming, overwhelmed by the
feeling of being filled and stroked. Q held himself as still as possible
and contemplated the necessary equations for blowing up a Borg ship with a
Federation tricorder as Jean-Luc's convulsions struggled to draw out Q's
own climax. With a final spasm, the man's body collapsed with Q on top of
him, and he would have landed roughly on the floor, except that they were
now on the white, soft bed of that sun-warmed room Picard wasn't sure had
ever existed in real time or space.
And now that Picard lay dazed on the bed, his legs spread out and
Q still inside him, Q took in and held a deep breath, then began to move.
Putting his powers firmly into a locked corner of his consciousness, the
entity closed his eyes and thought of nothing but how this felt: heat and
tight pressure up and down his aching, pulsing cock so good so good so
*good* he would have come a hundred times if it were not for the clamp his
teeth had on his lower lip, drawing blood. His hands on the sides of
Picard's body, fists drawn tight around handfuls of the comforter, his
shuddering arms barely holding him up, he thrust his hips forward again and
again, feeling the perfection of sensation all down the length of his human
body.
Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at the man's back, drinking
in the sight of the rise and fall of deep breaths, the heavy sheen of sweat
over his skin, the growing tension in his neck. Picard was aroused again,
but doing his best not to move, sensing Q's precarious dance at this
extreme limit of his pleasure.
This was the man who had refused to cower at Farpoint, earning Q's
eternal respect. This was the captain who would face any danger for the
sake of his beloved Federation and yet had still pleaded with Q in front of
his entire crew to be saved from the Borg, not allowing his pride to cause
any more deaths. This was the man who had protected Q from the Calamarain,
earning Q's eternal gratitude, the man who had forgiven Q even after he was
made into Locutus, who had solved the Continuum's puzzle and proven right
Q's faith in him to his peers, the man who was so private and disciplined
and controlled, and yet who had trusted Q enough to let him inside his life
and his body and his heart and his mind.
*And I'm fucking him in the ass,* Q thought to himself with rough
joy, keeping away from Picard's mind because the slightest touch of his
thoughts would bring forth the orgasm he did not yet want. *I'm fucking
him senseless and he loves it. I'm fucking him and I'm going to keep on
fucking him for eternity, finding out and inventing everything he could
want, making him come and watching him watch me come. I'm fucking him and
his body is all mine to fuck anytime I want, any way I want. I'm fucking
him and --*
"And I'm fucking you!" Q screamed, the orgasm coming at him in a
rush so hot and white he felt burned and blinded.
"Never stop!" Picard screamed back as he felt Q's hot cum pour
inside him. "Never stop!"
And then they lost the words for their continued screams as the
pleasure broke through them over and over until it was simply was too much
and they lay together in a sprawl, unconsciousness forcing a brief pause.
Q awoke to feel Picard pushing inside him.
"Ooooh," he moaned, spreading his legs, pushed gently up to his
chest by Picard's strong hands, to take in more of him as those beloved
eyes closed in bliss. Q hadn't cleaned them off, and the captain had used
the semen as lubrication. The entity added in some warm oil and healed the
cut on his own lower lip, smiling as Picard nodded in agreement, then
groaning as the captain began to pump him deeply, smoothly, then paused,
opened his glittering eyes, and slowly bent his head down to kiss Q with
the skill and passion of his overwhelming love.
*Oh, I've missed kissing you.*
*Look, the next peace conference that wants you to live like a
monk, tell them to piss off, okay?*
Picard chuckled at the thought that his life had been at all
monk-like during the conference, and began to thrust deeply into his lover
while continuing the kiss. Soon, he was lost in the sensations, completely
filled with Q's love, yet needing to be even deeper inside him.
*I'd actually forgotten how good you feel. Mon Dieu. This is
heaven. Tell me I can do this forever.*
"You can do this...forever, my love."
*Tell me you don't want me to stop.*
"I don't...ooooh, Jean-Luc...want you to...stop."
*Tell me I feel good.*
"Good?...Are you...insane? You feel...ahh...puny human words
can't...say how good...ohhhhh...good you feel."
*Try *harder.**
*OH! Oh, do that again!*
Picard complied, several times, and Q started, very
satisfactorily, to scream, raising his legs higher as his straining arms
pulled Jean-Luc's body tighter against him.
But something was wrong.
*What is it, Q? Why are you holding back?"
*I don't want to hurt you, my belov-*
*You are NOT going to HURT ME!* Picard reared back and began to
pound into Q as hard as he could, knowing Q wanted it, reveled in it, would
beg for it if Picard wanted him to. But he didn't want begging and he was
tired of being treated like a china doll. *Open up! Give me everything!
I don't care if it burns me! I don't care if there's nothing of me left
when you're done! I can't stand not having all of you! Now, OPEN UP!*
And even as he felt his orgasm approaching, Q let go of his fear
and reached out for his cherished lover with all that he had, pouring out
and gathering up without limitations until Picard was everything in his
consciousness, and he all in Picard's. There was no sense of sharing, but
only of *being* the same. The sensations from their bodies were stronger
than ever, but somehow both bodies belonged to both of them, and the mutual
pleasure was double the highest bliss they had ever known before.
Fortunately, they both had twice the strength than before to endure it.
It was no longer a question of barriers, but a mingling and
joining at the very foundation of their identities, and Q/Picard felt they
were made of nothing but love and ecstasy that went on and on and on in a
bubble of eternity, so fragile and yet completely whole, completely safe,
nothing in this universe but the other, and the other wanting nothing but
to fill that universe with the knowledge that they were no longer alone.
And then Q pulled just slightly away, feeling his heart break as
Picard clung to him.
*We have to end this, my love, or you *will* be hurt.*
More because he didn't want to bring Q grief than from a sense of
self-preservation, Picard moved away, bracing himself to face the
loneliness of being without Q again.
And yet, when he opened his eyes and saw Q laying beneath him,
hair matted with sweat, his dark, wild eyes staring up at him with
adoration so fierce they seemed to be on fire, when he felt the gasping
body under his own, even when he realized he was no longer inside Q
physically, Picard did not feel alone.
*Je t'adore, mon amor. Je vous aime. Ma ceour est pour toi.*
*Fuck me again.*
And so he did.
THE END -- Picard and Q will return in "On Her Majesty's Secret Q"
"Let us pray for understanding and compassion." -- Q
"Let us do no such damn thing." -- Picard